


One way it could have gone down

by almaruth



Series: Other ways it could have gone [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaruth/pseuds/almaruth
Summary: Sheriff Stilinski is not stupid, and he loves his son. Stiles, in turn, loves his dad - and that plus his concern for Scott give us a whole new (series of) outlook(s).





	

Sheriff Stilinski pulled the cruiser to a stop next to Stiles’ jeep, and decided to ignore the dust and dirt reminding him that Stiles had disobeyed him and gone into the woods anyway. He closed his eyes in frustration at the unlocked front door, making sure to lock it after himself. The sheriff thought about sleeping on the couch, but Stiles had school in a few hours, and he had 6 hours before he needed to be back at the station. He trudged up the stairs, and paused outside Stiles’ room. He put two fingers on the door and asked his wife to keep an eye on their son when he couldn’t, and continued down the hall to his room. Starting on his shirt buttons one-handed, he pushed the door open, and paused. Stiles was in his bed.

The sheriff rubbed his eyes, trying to decide if he really wanted to deal with whatever it was right now. There was enough space next to Stiles that he could just crash and deal with it later. But if whatever was wrong had driven Stiles back to his childhood refuge, the sheriff was pretty sure good parenting suggested that he deal with it sooner rather than later. He pulled out his cell phone, and checked for texts from Melissa McCall. Nothing since last week’s casserole offer. He slowly tapped out a text letting her know that Stiles had reverted to crawling into his bed and maybe she should check on Scott just in case, since they rarely got into trouble without each other. He was not unaware that the trouble was usually Stiles’ idea. Before he could decide how to approach Stiles, his phone dinged with a response from Melissa.

_Something is up. Scott looks fine, but there’s blood on his clothes. Definitely been in the woods – didn’t bother hiding the evidence._

The sheriff sighed. _Found them both in the woods. Was going to call later this morning,_ he typed, _I’ll wake Stiles up and we can compare stories later._

 _4-10_ , replied Melissa, causing the sheriff to huff a laugh, before he sobered, looking at Stiles with an investigator’s eye, not just a father’s. His color was good, but the sheriff couldn’t see much of him. He backed out of the room, headed back to Stiles’ room. Stiles’ ADHD manifested itself in an incredibly complex organizational system that looked like mess to an outsider. If he had followed it, the clothes he had been wearing last night would be at the foot of the bed. Stiles’ t-shirt and jeans were covered in blood, enough that the sheriff found himself back in his own bedroom, looking at his sleeping son once again, without quite remembering how he got there. He steeled himself for the inevitable evasions, and reached out to shake Stiles’ shoulder, calling his name. 

Stiles flailed an arm in his general direction, and rolled over. He shook his shoulder again. “Stiles, get up.” 

He flopped over. “Whuzzat?” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“Stiles, you’re in my bed. Get up.”

An eye opened blearily. “Hey dad,” Stiles muttered, “’m I late?”

The sheriff almost smiled. “Son, you’re in my bed. Wake up.” He ruffled his hair, watching as Stiles registered where he was, looking a bit frantic.

“Hey dad,” Stiles said, “I – uh – I was just – uh”

The sheriff’s lips rose up at one corner almost involuntarily. “Want to tell me more about last night, now we have some time?”

Stiles blanched, but dutifully sat up and leaned against the headboard. “I mean, you saw most of it.”

Eyebrows raised, the sheriff looked at Stiles. “You expect me to fall for that? Stiles.” He tried not to think about what he was going to do if Stiles lied about it. Stiles stayed quiet for a moment, and the sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“You know,” said Stiles quietly, “I never saw you do that before mom died. And now you do it all the time, and it’s almost always about me.”

The sheriff tried not to gape at the subject. Remembering the year after his wife had died was painful. He hadn’t know how to deal with Stiles’ ADHD, with the school, with the doctors, or his son’s grief. He’d barely been managing his own grief, and he’d quickly grown dependent on a drink – or four – every night. In the midst of his own grief and anger, he hadn’t realized how poorly he was treating Stiles until Melissa McCall sat down with him one night, and very bluntly told him to get his act together or she’d be taking Stiles with her. It had been a very necessary awakening, but the memory of it still caused him to flush with shame. As a result, he and Stiles rarely talked about his wife, and beyond an apology after he showed Stiles the empty bottles, they’d never talked about that period of their lives, either.

“Oh Stiles,” the sheriff sighed, “its not about you. It’s about my frustration that I never know how to approach you to get you to talk to me. Your mom was the one you confided in, and I never could figure out how to get you to confide in me. Everything I tried seemed to fail.”

Stiles half shrugged. “I was so mad at the world after mom died. I yelled at Mrs. McCall once ‘cause she didn’t save her, did she tell you? I mean, I was ten. Logic was not my strong suit and I know now that there wasn’t anything anyone could do. She talked to me about it a bit then, but you were so sad and I thought it would make you sadder if I talked about it with you. So I just sort of stopped talking about anything important with you, because it all lead back to mom, and then it was just habit.”

The sheriff closed his eyes, swamped again with grief and shame. “I don’t mind talking about your mom, kid. Yes, I miss her. Yes, I wish she were still with us. But she isn’t, and I think she’d be pretty pissed off that we don’t talk about her.” He sat down on the bed next to Stiles, leaning back against the headboard. They sat quietly together for a long moment.

Stiles ducked his head, peering up at the sheriff. “So, since I already know what I did was really stupid and dangerous, can we just maybe put a moratorium on telling me about that until I’ve told you the whole thing?” 

“Stiles,” the sheriff groaned. “What happened?”

Ten minutes later, the sheriff almost wished he hadn’t asked, and his fingers had found their way back to the bridge of his nose. One: his son, for a very bright teenager, was an idiot. Two: what kind of idiot doesn’t call in HALF A DEAD BODY?! Three: when your best friend is bitten by a dog with “glowy eyes”, and bleeding enough that your clothes were tacky with it, take him to the hospital. Do not pass go. Melissa’s text on his phone was a reassuring weight in his pocket. Scott was fine. _Take a deep breath. Start with the investigative questions. But remember this is your son, not a suspect_.

“Tell me about the body, Stiles,” he asked.

Stiles flinched a little. “It was a woman,” he said, finally, quiet and subdued, “with dark hair. Her face was muddy – maybe bruised but it was dark and I don’t know. She was naked – I could see her breasts. She kind of just stopped at the waist? I didn’t really look too hard once I realized what I was seeing. She was buried, kind of? Like, there were flowers, which actually made the whole thing even creepier. And now that I’m thinking about it, it really bothers me that I didn’t see her legs. Like, someone killed her and then what, tore her in half and did what with her legs? Also, I’m really bothered that I wanted to see a dead body. I don’t think I thought too much about how a dead body gets that way. I mean, I was there when Mom –“ Stiles stopped abruptly.

“You were there when your mom died,” the sheriff finished gently, “in a hospital, with care. It’s not the same thing at all.” Stiles huffed a little laugh, shaking his head. “What else, Stiles? Tell me about the dog.”

The sheriff felt Stiles shiver, and without thinking about it, he slung an arm over his shoulders. Stiles leaned in. “The dog,” Stiles said slowly, “was terrifying. I’m not even totally convinced it was a dog? Like, shape wise and movement wise, definitely canine but also it was massive. And did I mention its eyes glowed red? And I could feel the growl in my bones. We really didn’t do anything to it. All the nature things, they say leave it alone, it will leave you alone. But it just flew at Scotty, dad. And Scotty screamed and then it ran, but there was blood everywhere and we ran. When you saw us, Scotty was trying to convince me that it wasn’t so bad, and he didn’t need to get checked out. Dad, I saw the bite and I really thought Scotty could die if we didn’t get help – there was so much blood. But then it was way smaller than I remembered, and by the time I dropped Scotty off, it was pretty much gone.”

The sheriff hugged Stiles to him for a moment.  _Claudia_ , he thought,  _remember when we decided we'd tell him about wolves when it became necessary? I really thought you'd be here to help out, and I wouldn't have to do this on my own. It's not even my own secret._


End file.
